Supreme Warlock System : From Zero to Ultimate With My Wives-Chapter 394: Glacial Pursuit
Warlock Ch 394. Glacial Pursuit
The last thing he saw before the river pulled him under was Lysandra standing at the edge of the ridge… unmoving.
Watching.
And waiting.
Damian didn't surface.
Not right away.
Not even close.
The freezing current yanked at him like a thousand clawed hands, spinning him sideways, slamming his shoulder into a submerged rock hard enough to make his vision blur. Water rushed into his ears, muffling the roar of the river until it felt like his skull was wrapped in cotton.
Every instinct screamed at him to swim up, to breathe, to break through the surface— But he didn't.
He clenched his jaw, held his breath, and let the river take him deeper.
If he surfaced now, she'd be waiting. Probably with that 'I told you so' face too.
Nope. Not happening.
His cloak tangled around his legs for a second—he kicked hard, twisting mid-current, then activated [Spectral Surge] just enough to cut through the flow and steer himself away from a jagged cluster of rocks. The mana cost was steep in water like this, but better that than snapping his neck on a hidden spike.
Cold. So cold.
The deeper he went, the more brutal it became. He didn't have water resistance active—hell, he barely had enough mana left to throw a real attack. Every part of him felt like it was being stabbed with tiny icy needles. His lips were already going numb. He didn't dare open his mouth. His lungs were burning.
Still, he refused to rise.
The river narrowed ahead, pulling him into a long tunnel of stone where the current twisted like a serpent. Roots hung down from above, some of them glowing faintly with old magic—maybe wards, maybe remnants of a forgotten fae crossing. He didn't care. He just held on, eyes half-shut, mask still clinging to his face with pure stubbornness. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
And then…
The temperature dropped.
Even through the adrenaline haze, he felt it.
Not just cold.
Frost.
An unnatural chill chased down his spine like death whispering in his ear.
He glanced back through the water—and yeah, there it was. A swirl of ice spreading from behind.
Frost lines racing across the riverbed, the surface above dimming with a layer of thin, crystalline white. A trail of icy mist rolled through the water, shimmering like it was alive, pushing toward him in a long tendril of winter.
Lysandra's skill. Glacial Pursuit.
She didn't need to dive in. She just owned the river now.
Damian's eyes narrowed.
"You really don't know when to quit, do you?" he muttered through clenched teeth, bubbles escaping as he bit down harder and kicked forward.
The current had slowed. She was freezing it with him inside.
A chill wrapped around his fingers like frostbite crawling under the skin. His mana responded on instinct, and he raised both arms as the darkness coiled behind his shoulders.
He cast [Infernal Javelins].
A hundred spears erupted behind him—blazing hot, tips glowing with hellfire. He bit down and focused, draining every drop of rage he could summon from the pit of his chest.
"Come on," he hissed under his breath and flung his hands forward.
Half of the javelins plunged downward—straight into the frozen water, spearing through frost and cracking the ice bloom that was starting to form around him. The heat roared outward like underwater explosions, steam bubbling and shooting upward like geysers. It wasn't fire that burned here—it was pressure, fury, magic crashing into the unnatural cold like two storms colliding.
The other half?
Straight back.
A tight, controlled volley aimed at the surface—at the silhouette standing above the cliff edge, still watching.
The javelins ripped through the river like bullets, carving trails of red-hot magic in their wake.
He didn't need to hit her.
He just needed her to dodge.
And she did.
A wall of wind surged around her the moment the javelins neared. They didn't explode on contact—he figured she was smart enough for that—but the distraction worked. The cold retreated just slightly, enough to break her focus. Enough for the current to surge again.
He kicked with everything he had, lungs screaming now, air running out.
The steam, the javelin detonations, the fragments of ice—they all swirled around him like chaos, and he let it carry him. The river twisted again, and this time, he didn't fight it. Just angled his body and let it throw him forward like a bullet in a barrel.
The cliff edge vanished behind the bend.
The magic pressure vanished with it.
No more frost chasing his heels.
He surfaced fast, gasping, hacking up water as he broke through into an open basin carved into a canyon—far from the city, far from her.
He crawled toward the riverbank like a half-drowned cat and collapsed against a tree root. Everything ached. His cloak was soaked. His mask still clung to his face, barely holding on, steam rising from it with every breath. Water dripped from his hair in thick strands. His hands trembled.
But he was alive.
And more importantly—he was free.
Barely.
He leaned back against the rock and finally yanked the mask off, letting it clatter to the ground beside him. Cold air hit his face like a slap, but at least he could breathe now.
[Mana Regen: Paused – Exhaustion State Active]
[Status: Soaked, Cold Resistance: 0%, Debuff Applied – Chilled (-30% Movement Speed, -15% Casting Speed)]
"…Fun times," he muttered hoarsely, then coughed.
The forest here was silent. Just the wind through the rocks and the distant hiss of the river now slowing behind him. The scent of pine, moss, and damp earth filled his lungs with every shallow breath.
He stayed like that for a while. Just breathing.
Just letting the cold settle.
Then he pulled his knees in and exhaled long and slow.
She knew.
She knew who he was.
And she still didn't try to kill him.
That was worse somehow. Way worse.
He wiped a hand down his face and groaned. "Damn it… She said she doesn't want to kill me, but she acts like she wants me dead."
